


Pluviophile

by ostentatiouslyrealistic



Series: The Different Phases [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostentatiouslyrealistic/pseuds/ostentatiouslyrealistic
Summary: (n.) a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.





	Pluviophile

The new planet is nostalgic, from its clear blue water to its blooming flora and fauna that scatter throughout the island they've landed on. The only differences are that the leaves are a striking yellow, brighter than any leaf Lance has ever picked up during autumn, and the sand is a deep, splendid green. And the skies are a paler blue compared to the rich color in his memories, and there are even paler blue clouds drifting lazily along the horizon.

The air is crisp, a little sharp, but the castle systems had read that they could all go without their helmets for a decent amount of time before any serious consequences would occur. A lucky feat because he is in serious need of fresh air. Though this isn't earth, it comes pretty damn close.

At the moment, he stands at the edge of the ocean, allowing the water to lap at his feet, stripped bare the moment he found out there was a beach. He hadn't even thought about the possible repercussions of sticking any part of his body in unknown substances. Simply speaking, he'd raced toward the expanse of what seemed like the ocean, tore off his shoes, rolled up his jeans, and stuck his toes into the warm material. The water leaves his skin a little sticky, but that doesn't faze him. Instead, it brings him a sense of calm he's been craving for.

The little earpiece Pidge had stuck into his left ear crackles alive with conversation.

He can hear her and Hunk discussing the biology of the alien species along with some chemical jargon he doesn't bother to decipher. Allura and Shiro are off negotiating with the leaders of the homelike planet. The humming in his ear sounds distinctly like Coran, and Keith is—well, off being Keith.

Despite enjoying the social aspects of his newfound family, he's quick to tear out the earpiece, opting to instead listen to the gentle splashing of water hitting land. The sun is further from the planet than earth is to its own sun, so he can feel the gentle hum of heat thrum on his skin. And when he closes his eyes, he can see the reddish hue behind his eyelids. It's just _so nostalgic_.

Gradually, the color fades away, and he's taken aback when something hits the bridge of his nose. His forehead, his cheek, his hair. It rolls off of his skin, leaving behind a slow trail of stickiness exactly like the ocean. It can't be. Can it—?

Slowly, he cracks open an eye. His vision blurs for a moment, but when it opens fully, the other joins as he gazes in complete wonder at the sight. The sky is littered with sky blue clouds, almost the exact shade as a clear blue sky back at home. And the rain that patters against him is cold and gentle.

A typhoon of emotions sweeps him off his feet as a swelling of joy bolsters in his chest. Rain. _It's rain._ Holding out a shaky hand, he swallows heavily as droplet after droplet splash against his fingers and palm. Slowly, he curls his fingers inward, rubbing them against his thumb. It's _real_.

A sudden huff escapes his lips, the beginning of a torrential reaction. After that comes another and another until he's laughing, loud and clear. The sound is muffled by the gentle pattering of rain meeting ocean, but to him, the noise is music. An earful of peace and joy that fills him with such happiness that bubbles out in staccato bursts.

When the surprised hysteria fades to chuckling, he lifts his face up to the sky and closes his eyes, reveling in the rain that beats down on his heated skin. His hair plasters to his forehead, sticky, cold, wet. And he knows he's going to be in a dire need of a shower when he gets back on board the castle. But that can wait.

For now, he stands underneath the pouring sky until he can't tell the difference between the rain and the tears that have escaped the corners of his eyes without notice.

For now, he cries.

And the sky cries with him.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://www.quiznaksicles.tumblr.com)


End file.
